Overcrowded
by Revriley
Summary: When Gaius falls ill, Merlin becomes acting physician. With a variety of patients, royal and peasant alike, Merlin is not only overworked, but falling ill as well. Things don't help when he and his patients are cut off from the rest of the castle due to the roc...and when a non-magical but highly skilled assassin arrives hell-bent on killing Uther.
1. Chapter 1

**Overcrowded**

**Full Summary:** When Gaius falls ill, Merlin becomes acting physician. With a variety of patients, royal and peasant alike, Merlin is not only overworked, but falling ill as well. Things don't help when he and his patients are cut off from the rest of the castle...and when a non-magical but highly skilled assassin arrives hell-bent on killing Uther.

**Disclaimer: **If I said I owned it, I'd be lying.

**Note: This is my second Merlin story—the first some of you may have already read. (Stone Circle). Although the first is not yet finished, I hope that this story will become as (cough) popular as the other one is already. You know that feeling, when you've got a great idea for a story and you've just got to write, no matter that you've got 50 other stories to update? Yeah, that's me—although thankfully I recently updated my Fantastic Four story, and the Stone Circle I updated last week. Now I've got to update that ever-present National Treasure one...**

**WHEN:** Sometime after the Poisoned Chalice

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**Chapter 1**

Merlin remembered the day clearly—although as to which day it was, he couldn't say precisely...they were all blurring together now. Gaius had taken him aside, and place a hand on his shoulder. He had said to Merlin that he was getting old, and would probably not be around much longer. "Gaius, don't say that." Merlin had replied instantly, but the physician would hear none of it.

And that was when Merlin's mentor told him that, "You're to be the next court physician. No, I won't hear it," He had said, when Merlin tried to interrupt. "I want you to take my place and that's final. If you don't, you won't have a home after I die—the next physician would kick you out, Merlin—and if I know you you'd have a hard time earning a wage. As a physician, you would merit more respect then the other servants would receive, and you probably wouldn't even have to serve as Arthur's manservant anymore."

Merlin had managed to cut in with many harried protests, stating that it was his destiny to protect Arthur, and if he was not Arthur's personal servant, then it would be a lot harder to fufill it.

"Nonsense." Gaius had replied. "You'll have plenty of opportunities to save him. Enough of that." He again cut off Merlin's objections. "I mean for you to become the next court physician, and if you you are to be one, you must start learning at once."

And so Merlin had learned. He learned the names of different herbs, different measuring beakers, tools and received a variety of lectures on how to keep a patient warm without a fireplace. He and Gaius both agreed that it was very illogical for the physician to be without a fireplace, but what could they do? And he learned quickly, and when Gaius attributed that to magic, he had cheerily responded with

"It's obviously my natural brilliance that's doing it."

Privately, he had, and still learned healing spells with the book of magic. When he had first suggested it to Gaius, he had been met with furious reminders of the consequences if he was caught. So he learned in secret.

Soon, Merlin had become decent at healing, and with the guidance of Gaius, successfully treated patients, from bruises to fever. But then those were small cases.

And how Merlin now longed for those small cases!

Gaius had taken ill a few days before, and was occupying one of the two beds they had. This was another problem they felt was ignored—why on earth would the court physician have only two beds for patients? Of course, there was also the problem of space as well—the room was so crowded...

Merlin had managed to control Gaius's fever, and was now sitting at Gaius's beside, when suddenly...

"Merlin!"

Merlin groaned.

"Merlin!"

_Arthur, you prat._ Merlin slowly stood and walked up to his room. Arthur was occupying it, having been the victim of both a bear and the wrong end of a careless knight's mace. Of course, Merlin's bed wouldn't do for the prince, and a few servants had been burdened with the task of carrying the prince's covers and pillows down to the room, as well as a soft mattress that was suitably sized for Merlin's bed frame. Merlin's own pillow, blanket and sheet were being stored for any future patients. Merlin himself had been getting very little sleep—if he fell asleep at Gaius's bedside, Arthur would wake him up with his unrelenting complaints—and if he fell asleep at Arthur's he would immediately be alerted to Gaius's side at the slightest cough or moan. If there was a chance for actual rest, which was very little, Merlin would waste it with worrying about his patients.

"Yes, _sire_?" Merlin asked through gritted teeth.

"I need some water. My throat is parched." Arthur said from the bed. He was in a sitting up position, his right leg, hand, and his head both heavily bandaged, with small patches of blood seeping through. Although the king had been furious at first at the thought of Arthur not returning to his chambers and duties, Merlin had carefully explained that with Arthur's hand and leg, it would be impossible for the prince to wield a weapon or successfully outrun the enemy ("My son does _not_ outrun the enemy," Uther had denied). At any rate, it was agreed that during Arthur's recuperation he would remain with the acting physician.

Going back down the stairs, Merlin dipped the prince's goblet into a bucket of water—Gwen, bless her sweet heart, had brought it an hour earlier—and returned to Arthur, who took the goblet without a word and drained it. "Another." The prince gave him the goblet back. Merlin sent him a scathing glare before heading down the stairs to the bucket, rubbing the rim of the goblet clean with a piece of cloth.

Merlin returned to Arthur's bedside, and held out the goblet. When the prince reached for it, Merlin retracted his arm, careful not to spill the water. "Hey!" The prat exclaimed in surprise. "What was that for?"

"This time," Merlin tilted his head. "You're going to have a sip, then I'm going to set the goblet down."

The prince looked at him in confusion. "What?"

"You're wasting water by downing it all in one go." Merlin looked at Arthur, rolling his eyes. "It's not wine, your royal pratness. We need to save it." He paused. "If you don't do what I say I'm going to—"

Arthur cut in. "Fine!" He gestured impatiently for the goblet, and Merlin handed it to him reluctantly. Arthur looked at Merlin, the goblet at his lips.

Merlin looked back.

And Arthur downed it.

"Arthur, you prat!" Merlin snatched the goblet away from the prince, and stormed down the stairs. "No more for you!"

From his room, Merlin could hear the prince call back, "You really need to learn how to treat your patients with respect, Merlin! You..."

But by this time, Merlin had blocked out the sounds of Arthur ranting. Slamming the goblet down on a table, he sat down in the chair next to Gaius, fuming.

Actually, Gaius hadn't made the fact that Merlin was his apprentice official yet. Arthur was assuming that after Gaius recovered, Merlin would never tend to another person again. Merlin could picture the prat's face when Gaius did make the announcement. The prince would be disbelieving, and he would even start to laugh-

There came a sudden, desperate pounding on the door. Merlin found the energy to leap up from his seat, and rushed over to let whoever it was in. But before he got there, the door burst open, and a man cradling a small girl stumbled in. "Please!" The man's cries were desperate. "My little Beth—she's very sick. Please, help her!"

Merlin asked the man to stay there for a moment, and then hurried over to a corner of the room, lifting up an old and rickety table—one of the table legs was broken almost in half. With his back turned to the man, Merlin muttered "_Bótettan_." The table leg repaired itself, as well as the other odd scratches. Merlin then brought the table over to one of the only free spots in the room. He then spread the sheet over it, put the pillow down and gestured for the man to bring his daughter—Beth—over.

"Tell me when it first started." Merlin ordered, examining the girl. At the man's hesitation, Merlin added, "If you don't know, tell me when you first noticed."

"Erm, about four days ago." The man shifted uncomfortably. Merlin looked up momentarily, surprised.

"What? And you didn't find her help sooner?"

"I have four other children and a wife who I caught with Sam—that rat—in my bed three days ago. It's hard to find time when you've got a job, five children to worry about, and an unfaithful wife to-"

The man had drawn himself up, speaking with purpose and exhaustion.

"No—I'm sorry. I completely understand...?"

"Dan Molle."

"Mr. Molle." Merlin again turned his attention to Beth. _Cough, fever...apparently stomach pain as well..._ Merlin grabbed a cloth, dampened it and put it on the girl's forehead.

"I can't stay." Mr. Molle looked at him pleadingly. "I have a job. I'm a cobbler. People will..."

"Of course, sir." Merlin replied—he had already begun to make a cough syrup.

"Thank you." Relief was evident in the man's eyes. "If you ever need a good pair of shoes, let me know." And with that the man was gone.

Merlin stood there, the not yet-finished beaker of syrup still in his hand. "I wish you hadn't told me her name," he said softly to the closed door. "It makes things so much more personal."

/ /\/\ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

So...yeah. One of my longer first chapters. Advice is greatly appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

**Overcrowded**

**Full Summary: **When Gaius falls ill, Merlin becomes acting physician. With a variety of patients, royal and peasant alike, Merlin is not only overworked, but falling ill as well. Things don't help when he and his patients are cut off from the rest of the castle...and when a non-magical but highly skilled assassin arrives hell-bent on killing Uther.

**Disclaimer: **If I said I owned it, I'd be lying.

**Note: This is my second Merlin story—the first some of you may have already read. (Stone Circle). Although the first is not yet finished, I hope that this story will become as (cough) popular as the other one is already. You know that feeling, when you've got a great idea for a story and you've just got to write, no matter that you've got 50 other stories to update? Yeah, that's me—although thankfully I recently updated my Fantastic Four story, and the Stone Circle I updated last week. Now I've got to update that ever-present National Treasure one...**

**WHEN: **Sometime after the Poisoned Chalice

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**Chapter Two**

They came at dawn.

They came—six men, two first coming, supporting between them a man bleeding profusely from his head and arm. After they came two more, half-carrying a man who seemed unable to stand on two feet without falling—undoubtedly drunk.

"Lander here was hit by falling debris—it happened because of this idiot Walter here." One of the men said, gesturing to the drunk. "We were hoping Gaius could—what's wrong with Gaius?" The same man stopped when he saw the physician on the bed.

"He's ill." Merlin informed them. "I'm acting physician."

"Oh. Okay." Then man said after a moment. "Anyway, we were hoping you could take care of these two."

"But he—Walter-is drunk—surely you could take him back to his-"

"Already tried." Said another man. "His wife refused to let him in in this state."

Merlin, as they had been talking, had taken out his thin mattress and placed it on the floor near—almost under Beth's table. "Put Lander there." Merlin instructed, while getting out bandages. Three men complied, while the other stood with Walter.

"What about our tavern-frequenter?" The man asked.

"Um..." Merlin looked around, grabbed his chair from next to Gaius, and placed it under the stairs leading to the small book balcony. "Put him there." Merlin said, putting pressure on Lander's wounds.

After both indisposed men were 'resting comfortably' (Merlin still had to bandage Lander's arm), their four friends took their leave.

There came silence. Then came a few groans from the drunk Walter. Then came-

"Merlin!"

Merlin ignored Arthur for a moment, concentrating on wrapping the bandage around Lander's arm.

"What?" He called back.

"What the hell are you doing up this early in the morning? You woke me up with all that racket!" Merlin quickly looked over at his other patients. They were still sleeping, thank goodness. "Merlin!"

Beth, on the table, turned her head in her sleep, subconsciously reacting to Arthur's voice.

Merlin, not yet done with the bandaging, slowly got up and made his way toward Arthur's sickbed. Once there, he clasped his bloodied hands behind his back, stood at the foot of the bed and looked Arthur straight in the eye. "Four men just came in," he said. "Supporting two other. One of whom is drunk," at this, Arthur snorted. "And the other injured." Merlin then held out his hands, which were covered in Lander's blood. "I wasn't done bandaging his wounds when you called. Is there anything else you'd like to say? Or would you rather delay the process of saving the life of one of your subjects?"

Arthur was silent for a moment, and Merlin held his breath.

"Go."

Merlin let out a sigh of relief, and rushed out of the room to finish tending to Lander. Beth had awakened by the time Merlin returned. She sat wrapped in Merlin's blanket, shivering, as he finished wrapping Lander's arm. "Where...am I?" She asked slowly.

Merlin came over, almost reached out to her, remembered his hands, and thought better of it. "Lie down." He gently told the girl. She did as instructed, murmuring "What happened?" Well...there was no use in being indirect.

"You're ill," he replied softly. "And you're in the Court Physician's residence."

"Where's my father? Mother? My brothers and sisters?" Merlin shifted uncomfortably at the mention of Beth's mother, recalling what Mr. Molle said about her being...unfaithful.

"You're father has an obligation to his job, Beth. You're mother...is, um...busy looking after your siblings.

"Oh." Beth then coughed, her face growing even paler then before.

"Get some rest. I won't leave you." _If Arthur decided not to be a prat, that is_.

Beth nodded and closed her eyes. Merlin pulled over a rickety stool and sat down beside her. It was still early morning, so that the only source of light came from a few candles on nearby tables. It was deathly quiet, and Merlin had to strain to hear the patients' breathing.

The scene was peaceful for about twenty seconds.

And then came a knocking at the door. Feeling very much like he was stuck in a repetitive loop, Merlin got up, and opened the door.

"Gwen?" He asked in surprise. "Morgana?"

"I had a nightmare." The king's ward rushed in, stopping hastily when she almost tripped over Lander. "Wha-?" She looked confused for a moment. "Why-? Oh, never mind. Listen, Merlin. For my nightmares, Gaius gives me-"

"A sleeping draught, yest, I know, Morgana." Merlin said softly, putting a finger to his lips. He gestured to the stool, upon which Morgana sat. Gwen chose to sit on the stairs, biting her lip in worry. "What was your dream about?" Merlin asked casually, preparing the sleeping draught.

At this Morgana hesitated, and looked at Gwen as if to ask _Should I tell him_? Gwen nodded.

"Oh Merlin, it was horrible!" Morgana cried out. "There was—part of the castle was destroyed—I saw—I saw.." Morgana gazed around at Merlin's patients. "...You all...here...unable to leave...only there were a few more people. Debris filled the corridors...and someone with a knife was bending over Uther."

Merlin paused, holding a closed vial in his hand. "Could you...could you describe some of the people in the room? Just one of them?" He then furiously shook the vial, before pouring it into a little cup.

"One of them—the one that I saw clearest—was a young man—younger than you and I, but in his late teens. He had curly black hair, and a not quite healed cut running diagonal over his right eye. His appearance was that of a peasant, but he had with him the most beautiful dagger I've ever seen..."

Morgana trailed off as Merlin handed her the drink. "Thank yo-"

She was cut off as the door flung open, causing Gwen to gasp.

When all three could make out the newcomer, Gwen gasped again, and this time the others joined her.

Standing in the doorway was the man Morgana had just described.

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I really that was a very obvious cliffhanger, and I apologize. On the other hand, this is probably the fasted I've every updated.


	3. Chapter 3

**Overcrowded**

**Full Summary: **When Gaius falls ill, Merlin becomes acting physician. With a variety of patients, royal and peasant alike, Merlin is not only overworked, but falling ill as well. Things don't help when he and his patients are cut off from the rest of the castle...and when a non-magical but highly skilled assassin arrives hell-bent on killing Uther.

**Disclaimer: **If I said I owned it, I'd be lying.

**Note: This is my second Merlin story—the first some of you may have already read. (Stone Circle). Both are (obviously) incomplete, and right now...I've got about three others to update (excluding these two). So bear with me, I'm surprised I even updated now. Damn you, homework.**

**WHEN: **Sometime after the Poisoned Chalice

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**Chapter Three**

"Water." The man whispered, his voice hoarse. "I need water."

He rushed to one of the only available surfaces left, and starting picking up vials and beakers, examining the contents and slamming them back down when proved not drinkable. With carelessness brought stupidity—his violent movements caused the liquids to escape their containers, in some cases the whole glass falling to the floor and scattering shards everywhere. A bright red substance hit the table, a blue one immediately following. Upon contact with each other, the table started to smoke.

Merlin shouted, taking out another vial and pouring its contents onto the smoke, which immediately subsided. Gwen and Morgana grabbed hold of both the man's arms, and Merlin began mopping up the mess with a rag. "What were you thinking?" He glared at the man, exhaustion and stress lacing every word.

"Water." Came the reply.

Merlin slowly stood, dropping the rag to find some water to give him. Upon his return the man broke free of Gwen's grip, snatched the bowl out of Merlin's hands and poured the water into his mouth. "Thank the Gods. Another moment and I'd have perished."

"No, another moment and we'd have been spared the mess." Merlin muttered.

The man held out the bowl expectantly. "I'm here on official business." He said, wrenching his arm out of Morgana's hands. "I need to see the king..." He coughed, and a dribble of blood escaped a corner of his mouth. "But I _had_ to have water first. Speaking of which..." He looked at the bowl and up at Merlin again. The blood, however, had not escaped Merlin's notice, and he handed the bowl to Gwen to refill.

"Truthfully, I couldn't care less if you were a prince himself—I don't need another anyway. What I do know is that you're injured..." He studied the man carefully, who was hunched over slightly. "...and that you're not leaving this room until I say so. Let's have a look at your ribs."

"But-" The man started to protest, wincing in pain.

"-But of course! You're brilliant, you really are. I should definitely be resting with a—ooh look, a _knife_ wound in my chest, and dehydration to boot." Merlin finished for him, picking up one of the shards of glass and using it to cut open the man's clothes. A long, deep cut ran between two ribs. Merlin sat the man down on the floor, and started rummaging through Gaius's supplies.

Gwen knelt down by the man, having refilled the bowl. She dipped a rag into the water and started to gently clean the man's wound, murmuring "Sorry," each time he flinched. "What's your name?" She asked.

"Allister." He said. "Allister of Daira."

"Of Daira?" Merlin asked curiously, bringing with Morgana several vials and bandages. "We haven't had a problem with Daira as far as I know. What's wrong?"

"That...I must convey to the king." Allister said, looking away.

"If you're of noble birth, why are you dressed in peasant clothes?" Morgana asked, fingering his tattered cloak.

"The path between our two kingdoms is often fraught with thieves. It is only natural to assume that they would attack those with elaborate dress."

Merlin gently dampened a cloth with a dark green potion, and pressed it against Allister's wound. Allister hissed. "Had to be done." Merlin said wearily. "But surely they wouldn't send a nobleman when a messenger could do. Surely your father'd forbid such a thing..."

"The Count Dolxton is too immersed in his duties to the royal household to worry about his offspring." Allister answered dryly.

Morgana looked at him in sudden sympathy. "You're a younger son, aren't you?"

Allister nodded his response, tensing as Merlin finished up bandaging his wound.

"And you wanted to prove yourself." Morgana continued softly.

Allister glared at her. "This message...to King Uther...would only be believed coming from...one of noble heritage." He coughed, and Gwen dabbed at the blood trickling down his chin.

"That message will have to wait, unless you wish me to inform the king of your presence..." Merlin said firmly. "Right. Where can we put you...?" He lifted Allister up as best he could, and propped him up against a table leg. "This will have to do." He headed toward a small crate stuffed under Gaius's bed and pulled out his own blanket. "Hopefully this'll keep you warm. But first...what sorta weapons d'you carry?"

Allister looked up at him suspiciously. "Why do you ask?"

Merlin rolled his eyes. "One of the aristocracy wouldn't head down a bandit infested road without protection. ...A dagger, perhaps?"

The man looked down at his cloak, under which Merlin assumed was the dagger. "Yes." He said softly. "They stole my sword. That's how I got the knife wound."

"You have our sympathies." Morgana said sincerely, as Merlin placed the blanket over Allister.

Merlin held back a yawn, picking up the sleeping draught that Morgana had never received. "Here you go, Morgana." He held it up. "Sweet dreams. Thank you—both of you, for helping me with Allister."

Morgana accepted the drink gratefully, and Gwen smiled good-bye to Merlin. They left, shutting the door behind them.

"But the message—the King needs to be informed-!" Allister said, fighting sleep.

"-can wait until morning. Uther Pendragon does not appreciate being woken up in the middle of the night." Merlin sighed apologetically. "Now go to sleep."

It didn't take very long for Allister to do so—he had been severely dehydrated, and with a wound, his body clamored for rest. Merlin watched as Allister's head slowly lowered down, until his chin nearly met his chest. Merlin smiled at the sight, and knelt on the floor, cleaning up the rest of the glass and liquid Allister had spilled earlier.

Morgana sat on her bed, swallowing the remains of her sleeping draft. The taste was a pleasant surprise—Gaius's was usually bitter, Merlin's was sweeter. She handed the cup back to Gwen. "Would you sleep in the antechamber tonight, Gwen?" She asked hesitantly. "It's far too late for a lady to walk back through town..." They both shuddered. There had been a recent report of a group of men down in the villages, who at night would roam the streets, ready to take advantage of any lone lady they saw.

"Of course, milady..." Gwen furrowed her brow. "Tsk. We should have asked for Allister's message—perhaps you could have awoken his Majesty..." She trailed off, heading for the door.

"Where are you going?" Morgana questioned anxiously.

"I'll just give this back to Merlin and ask for the message. It won't take long, milady." Gwen replied, and exited the chambers.

Gwen hurried down the halls, the cup clutched in her hand. It would be a shame if she had to arouse Allister for the message. He dearly required sleep. Then again, Merlin did too—he was too pale these days, and the dark bags under his eyes only enhanced it. Yes, she'd make him fall asleep too, she would.

She tripped, dropping the cup as the ground shook beneath her. Terrified, Gwen looked around—dust and small pebbles were falling from the ceiling. Forgetting the cup, she stood and ran for a little alcove, which harbored a statue of a knight. Ducking behind the figure, she watched in horror as the whole hallway began collapsing, the ceiling caving in and the pillars tumbling to the ground...and soon, very soon, her world was cast in darkness as her only means of escape was blocked by the falling stone.

Morgana screamed, sitting upright in her bed as there came a loud rumbling, her window panes shaking in their frames. She grabbed a cloak and drew it about her as she ran into the hallway, shouting for the guards. Two of them ran to join her, waving their spears about in a panic. "Wha' is that?" One of them asked in fear.

"I dunno, can't even tell where it's coming from. You'd best stay here, milady." The other advised her, looking shaken.

But the shaking stopped moments after his opinion, and she covered her mouth as the reality sank in. "Gwen!" She raced down the hallway, elegance be damned, to find her handmaiden, and her friend.

The three of them—the guards and Morgana, reached a long stretch of the corridor completely blocked by debris. It was the fastest way to reach Merlin, Morgana realized, and Gwen would surely have taken it. "Gwen?" She called fearfully. "Gwen!" There was no reply. She turned to the guards. "How far does this destruction go?" She pleaded for an answer, any answer she knew they did not possess.

"I can't tell from here," one guard admitted.

Morgana bent down, and lifted up a small rock. "We've got to clear it all away!" She cried. "Join me, we _must_ clear it away!"

The guards looked at each other. People were already exiting doorways, some clutching blankets to their chests, others crying in fright, others drawing their swords. They could not persuade Morgana by words, they knew, and physical force was generally disapproved of by the king. Seeing no other choise to dissuade her, they knelt beside her and began picking up fallen stone. Other guards rushed to the scene, shouting in dismay or shock, others throwing their helmets to the ground in realization that several people were trapped behind their doors, and that it would take several days, perhaps weeks, to dig them out...

:::::::::::merlin::::::::::

I'm again, so sorry it took so long to update! This chapter may not live up to Chapter One—or Two, but I hope it makes up for the long lack of updates for this story...


	4. Chapter 4

**Overcrowded**

**Full Summary: **When Gaius falls ill, Merlin becomes acting physician. With a variety of patients, royal and peasant alike, Merlin is not only overworked, but falling ill as well. Things don't help when he and his patients are cut off from the rest of the castle...and when a non-magical but highly skilled assassin arrives hell-bent on killing Uther.

**Disclaimer: I am certain I almost do not perhaps own this.**

**Note: I am so sorry about this late update. It's been...what...seven months now? Ouch. I hope this chapter makes up for it. (IT WON'T)**

**WHEN: **Sometime after the Poisoned Chalice

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The physician's quarters were in chaos. Many a fragile object had fallen to the ground, books were shaken from their shelves and the toad's cage (the toad that was possibly poisonous, and the only thing that was caught on Arthur's last hunting trip) was flipped upside down.

Merlin, needless to say, wasn't happy.

Picking himself up off the floor, he immediately scanned his patients. Beth had nearly rolled off the table, and now was sitting up upon it, shaking in terror. Underneath the table, Lander attempted to do the same thing, but could only manage to support himself by leaning on his uninjured arm—once doing so, he looked about him in apparent confusion. Allister, who had been leaning on the table leg closest to Lander's legs, instinctively went for where his sword usually would have been at the sound of rumbling.

From the chair underneath the balcony, Walter groaned, and blearily blinked his eyes open, and groaned louder. "Was'going on?" He slurred.

Gaius was mostly alert, and although he made no attempt to sit up (being a physician, he knew it would do more harm than good), he loudly seconded Walter's question. From Merlin's room, Arthur was not far behind in being third.

Merlin _really_ wasn't happy.

More than that, he was disoriented. Everything seemed out of focus, veering slightly to the left and right when his head was still, but Merlin was sure he hadn't hit his head _that_ hard.

Had he?

There was too much noise for thought: Everyone was trying to speak at once, and Beth started to cry. Merlin couldn't take it anymore.

"All right!" He shouted, raising his hands in the universal 'stop, for the sake of my sanity' gesture. "Enough! Just..." he slumped slightly. "Enough." He shuddered slightly, the room seemed colder than before. But Merlin wouldn't let that stop him, and he composed himself.

"Arthur, can you hear me?" He called from the middle of the main room. An irritated "Yes" floated back as an answer.

"Right then." Merlin cleared his throat nervously, and regretted it—his throat was sore. Gaius's quarters weren't that dusty, were they? "I don't know what that was for certain, but the best guess would probably be an earthquake-"

"No, really?" Arthur guffawed—quite clearly too—from behind the door. "What _else_ could have done that?"

Merlin glanced at Allister, who pursed his lips. "I think he knows!" Merlin replied.

"Who's he?" Arthur snapped back. "Will somebody open this damn door so I can see what's going on?"

Merlin chose not to say anything else, and proceeded to calm down Beth and attend to the patients, answering their questions and dressing their wounds. Finally, he crouched down next to Allister.

"Tell me everything you know."

::::m:::e:::r:::l:::i:::n:::

Arthur didn't like being ignored.

He didn't like being ignored, especially when it was Merlin doing the ignoring. "Merlin!" He shouted, and when there came no reply, he attempted to will the door to fall down with his eyes. This stopped when he realized that could be considered as a form of magic.

From behind the door (where presumably the rest of the world lay, but this Arthur was beginning to doubt) came a series of quiet murmurings. The girl's crying had thankfully stopped, but that didn't allow him to understand what was being said or, for that matter, who was saying it.

Arthur didn't like—scratch that-_hated_ being ignored.

A few minutes later, the door creaked open and Merlin poked his head inside, smiling brightly, though he himself was pale and dusty. "Allister."

"Who?" Arthur questioned, already annoyed by the cryptic answer.

"_He's_ Allister." The words flowed easily through that almost now-obnoxious smile. Arthur felt an urge to disfigure Merlin for life.

"_Mer_lin." He warned his servant very clearly by stressing the first syllable. The ultimatum. Arthur felt a surge of pride for having unraveled the secrets of controlling the servant mind.

"That is my name...sire." Merlin looked at him quizzically (on purpose of course).

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "I swear, if you don't tell me what exactly is going on, I'll-"

"-glare at me threateningly from my bed?" Merlin finished for him, smiling brightly. Arthur swore at his manservant internally, and vocalized one of his more vulgar curses. Merlin hastily let a somber mask settle upon the features of his face. "Right. Allister is the man you asked about earlier, the one I thought would know something about that...shake that just occurred."

Arthur jutted in before Merlin could continue, before the oaf accidentally brushed aside something important. "What made you draw that conclusion?"

Merlin bit his lip. "Allister is the newest, and for the time being, last of my patients. He's a son of the Count Dolxton of Daira, but not first-born. He traveled alone upon the roads, clothed in peasant attire and without sword, sustaining a knife-wound to the chest, and dehydration. He made his way to the physician's quarters, and told us that he had arrived in order to relay something of the utmost urgency to Uth—_King_ Uther. He wouldn't tell us what it was at first—we'd asked, thinking that one of us could tell Uther while Allister rested-, but then this tremor occurred, and I figured the two might've been connected. So, he told me, and-"

Arthur held up his left hand. "Merlin. You're babbling. Now, if Allister is well enough to be moved, then bring him to my—your room, so I can hear what he had to say from his own lips. I don't trust yours. And for the gods' sake, will you leave that door open when you fetch him?"

Merlin smirked, and his head disappeared behind the still-open door. Arthur, realizing the loop-hole Merlin was undoubtedly trying to use, shouted as an afterthought, "_Wide_-open, Merlin."

There was a snicker, and the door swung open.

Arthur quickly realized that his logic had been flawed. He'd forgotten that Merlin's room sat a upon a steeper set of steps than he'd thought, and that not only was he in an elevated position inside the room, the only way he would have been really able to see anything was if he had stood right at the top of the steps and looked through.

He was struggling to assume a decent expression on his face—decent being anything not a murderous glare—when Merlin returned with Allister. Arthur scrutinized the man carefully. After a moment, he spoke.

"Allister Dolxton of Daira. I admit to having one vague memory of you from when I was five and at some sort of feast in which you were present. You were quite the energetic child, weren't you?"

Allister's expression didn't change, though his eyes seemed to have a knowing glint in them when he replied, "this is coming from the boy who drank his father's wine and proceeded to 'accidentally' lose his prize emerald under the Princess Asmere's dress, and 'accidentally' look at her undergarments while looking for the jewel-"

"-says the miscreant who managed to break his mother's anniversary gift, transform all the draperies into a noose while simultaneously _accidentally_ starting a fire with a candle?" Arthur immediately retorted

Allister snickered, a boyish glee flitting across his face. "It really was a terrible anniversary gift."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Right. Arthur, since you're all informed now, Allister really does need to rest..."

Allister smiled thinly, and the mischievous glint faded from his eyes. "Sorry." He murmured. "But the truth of the matter, well, it's almost embarrassing, not to mention it'll probably cause a severe decline in relations between Camelot and Daira."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

Allister shrunk slightly, his eyes downcast. "Ah—well-it may possibly quite probably most likelyinvolvemagic. It was an accident!" He hastily added.

Arthur let his head fall back upon the pillows. "Right, well, my father's clearly going to forgive and forget because it was an _accident_." He sighed. "Just tell me what happened."

Allister nodded shortly, a light sheen of sweat upon his forehead. "We'd captured the Roc, and-"

"The what?" Arthur interrupted.

Merlin, who was leaning against a wall, smirked. "For the future king, you always seem to be quite lacking in knowledge of the different types of dangerous opposition. I cannot begin to describe the confidence I have in your reign-"

"Shut-up, Merlin!" Arthur snapped.

"-_especially_ when I, a lowly servant, know the answer to your question." Merlin rushed on. He looked at Allister for permission to continue. When Allister nodded at him, Merlin continued. "A Roc is a huge bird, I mean, _really huge_. It's size is usually in the range of a dragon's. It can pick up huge boulders—bigger than Camelot's biggest horses—and drop them from an extremely high altitude. It's shaped like a hawk, really."

Arthur gestured for Allister to continue. "And now there is no more reason for you to speak, Merlin. Go away."

Allister resumed his tale. "We were keeping the Roc in a huge cave, found on the outreaches of our territory. His legs were chained to the stone, and his wings bound behind him, his beak forced shut. It was one of the most debated topics of the Court—father was deeply interested in the subject, half fascinated and half terrified by the creature. Some claimed that even our magical chains would not hold such a creature, and that we needed to kill it at once; others were of the opinion that it could be manipulated into an enslaved beast of the kingdom; and still more declared that we must set it free. At any rate, one afternoon at the Court one of the Roc's keepers ran into the throne room in a panic, screaming that the creature was gone. There was a great hurry to investigate the cave, and at the time of my leaving—four days after the escape—we had no conclusion. The chains had completely disappeared, leading some to hypothesize that the Roc had managed to pull the chains out of their sockets. A larger group says that someone must have freed the creature, the idea itself setting off search parties and more speculations."

"But why would the Roc be attacking Camelot? We've done nothing to any of its brethren—indeed, we've never seen a Roc before now! If it was free before you captured it, why didn't it attack then?" Arthur asked, bewildered.

"When it was first spotted, it had been flying from the more uncharted areas, and was in weak condition at the time. Nomads who had been following the creature's movements reported that it performed better during the day—it is the opposite of a nocturnal creature, decreasing in coordination in the dark significantly. That is probably why it is attacking Camelot now—it is disoriented after staying in the shadows for such a long period of time, and connects any castle with humans, which it of course connects with its capture."

Arthur frowned. "Are we sure that it isn't just an earthquake? And if it is the Roc, what are the chances it'll attack again?"

"Of course there is more than one possibility, I'm just giving the more likely one." Allister responded. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to sit down. I'm...a little bit tired..."

Merlin threw one of Allister's arms around his shoulder. "Back to the table leg for you. I want no more over-exerting, got it? That's _my _job."

Arthur spluttered. "Back to the what? Merlin after you finish with Allister, report straight back to my—your—room. I want an accurate description of everybody and everything in that room. Are we understood?"

"Only after I explain the situation to everyone else..." Merlin's voice sounded from the main room. Arthur grunted loudly in reply, realizing only after that Allister hadn't answered his second question.

:::::M:E:R:L:I:N:::::POV:::::

Merlin had given a slightly watered down version of the discussion between Arthur and Allister after he cleared away the debris for the other, propping the noble up on the table leg once more. The responses were overall the same—worried. Beth and Walter were slightly more hysterical, Lander too injured to care. Gaius calmly said that it wasn't their concern, but he gave Merlin a look, as if to say "We shall talk later." Merlin acknowledged his mentor with a small smile, and returned to his room...well, Arthur's sickbed, as it were.

Arthur's mood hadn't improved since Merlin had left. He was drumming his fingers impatiently on the bed, and he spoke as soon as Merlin had pushed the door open.

"I want a complete description of all your patients, and the state of the room. From here on, I demand to be informed of everything that is going on out there."

Merlin let out a breath. "I didn't forget the first time you said that, there's really no need to repeat yourself. And I really don't think much will be happening anyway, so-"

"Have you tried the door yet?" Arthur cut in.

"Not yet." Merlin admitted. "I thought it would be dangerous."

"Well, _there's_ a 'happening' for you right there!" Arthur concluded triumphantly.

"Right, well, when I'm crushed by the debris that will inevitably fall on me when I open the door, I'll be sure in my dying breaths to make sure someone will inform you that we are trapped inside."

Arthur snorted. "Speaking of patients, why don't you tell me who they are?"

"The youngest is a child, Beth. She was brought to me by her father—and she's sick. She's currently lying on a table."

Arthur made to interject something, but Merlin continued. "Lander and Walter were carried in later by four men. They said that Walter had apparently caused debris to fall upon Lander, whose head and arm were injured as a result. Walter was just drunk—the only reason he was brought along was because his wife wouldn't allow him to return home in his condition. Well, once he returns to his senses, I'll at least have somebody physically able to help me...anyway, Lander's sleeping under the table, and Walter's sitting on a chair under the balcony. The only other patients are Gaius and Allister, and you already know how they're faring. Gaius is sleeping on his own bed, Allister is propped up on one of Beth's table legs."

"But those sleeping conditions are absolutely intolerable, especially for sick and injured patients! Where are your other beds?" Arthur asked, an astonished expression on his face.

"Well sire, it's not like you haven't been in here before, so I'm sure you have been already aware of our bed situation for some time."

Arthur muttered something under his breath. Indeed, Merlin reasoned, it was more likely that the prince hadn't noticed anything related to beds at all in his previous visits to the physician's quarters. Merlin decided that it would be best to finish quickly. "And as for the condition of the room, well, it's basically what anyone would expect after such an event: Glass strewn everywhere, fallen objects...the sort of thing that needs to be cleaned up as soon as possible before someone gets hurt. So, let me take care of that, and _then_ I'll test the door. Any last requests before my possible death?" He smiled, half-jokingly.

Arthur paused. "Yeah. Bring me a book, or just something to do! I'm bored to tears here."

Merlin rolled his eyes, and returned to the main room, where he scoured the names of Gaius's books. He chose one, returned, and flung it at Arthur's good arm; the prince shouted in surprise, catching it at the last second. Merlin swung the door closed behind him as he descended the steps.

"_The Anatomy of—_Merlin!"

Merlin grinned.

::::GWEN:::POV::::

Gwen huddled behind the statue of the knight, one arm instinctively curled about his ankle—harking back to her childhood days when she would hug a soft toy at night. But the cold, hard stone of the statue was far more unforgiving and uncomfortable then what Gwen would have considered likeable. Not that toys would be made out of stone or anything. Gwen let out a half-laugh, half-sob. She was babbling.

Overall, the fallen masonry had spilled into the alcove, but not quite extensively—there was enough room for Gwen to sit...even lie down, if she wanted to. But, the handmaiden's mind was far from sleep. All she wanted to do was to discover all possible means of escape. Gwen stood up, and looked at her surrounding walls. Desperately, she began to brush her hands over them, vainly hoping for a secret passage of some sort that would be her salvation. There was none. Gwen turned back towards the rubble blocking her way into the passage. Could she perhaps dig her way out? Gwen doubted it highly. Slowly, she sank back down to her knees, absent-mindedly patting her pockets as she did so, stopping at an apron pocket. A lump of bread was nestled there, and Gwen could tell it was already a bit stale. Would it save her from starving to death? Probably not, even if her teeth could survive the chewing process. Gwen leaned against the knight, burying her head in her arms. Up until now, she'd been surprisingly calm. But the ever-noticeable silence was reminding her to be terrified. She could only hope someone had started a rescue mission.

::::UTHER::::POV::::

When His Majesty had been updated on the situation, he had dressed and hurried down to join Morgana at the passageway. He'd attempted to pull Morgana up to a standing position, but the stubborn girl had pulled her arm out of his grasp and continued to roll away stone.

Guards were constantly attempting to get his attention, and Uther's patience was starting to wear thin. When the latest one had scurried up to him, helmet in hand, Uther had snapped, "If this isn't something of great importance, then stop while you're ahead and help clear the destruction away. _My son is in __there!_"

"I—sir-" The guard stumbled back slightly, and Uther vaguely noted dark rings under the man's eyes. "Have you—ah-been informed yet as to why this all happened?"

Uther froze. Out of all the other guards updating him on what was going on, he realized none of them had managed to tell him that very fact. "No...ahm...?"

"Thom, sire. At any rate, sire, the watches are all in agreement that they saw what very much looked like a large, dragon-sized bird attacking the castle. Apparently the bird has long disappeared, sire."

Uther struggled to recollect any previous encounters with a large bird. "Where is Geoffrey the Librarian? Has he been seen?"

"I'd think he'd be somewhere in the vicinity of the library, your highness." The guard answered, and Uther could tell the man considered this to be the obvious response. He scowled, but then again, he reasoned, guards weren't picked for their brains.

"Thank you...er..."

"Thom, sire." The guard reminded him.

"Trom, yes. Now, get to work!" The king dismissed the man with a wave of his hand, and went in search of Geoffrey.

:::T:i:m:e:s:k:i:p::::

To Uther's annoyance, Geoffrey _was _in fact in his library, looked rumpled and half-asleep. "An earthquake?" The librarian asked, bewildered.

Uther wasn't in the mood to explain anything. "Nevermind, Geoffrey. Just tell me this: What would be the name of a creature whose shape is that of a large bird, possibly dragon-sized?"

Geoffrey hesitated. "The most accurate, I think, would be the Roc. Are you saying that is what caused the shake?"

Uther ignored the question. "Check through your books for any mention or record of the Rocs' activities near Camelot or surrounding kingdoms. I will be back later."

With that, Uther left the library and strode back towards the blocked passageway—where he'd be near Morgana, and in a position to supervise things. It was a further ways from the library than Uther would've liked, but that was just bad luck, he supposed.

A noise sounded behind him. Uther stopped, and looked behind him. Was that a cloak, disappearing from view? The glint of a dagger? His hand unconsciously moved towards his hilt, where it stayed. Uther picked up his pace, suddenly even more anxious to be back with the guar—others.

Once back with the group, Uther resumed surveying those clearing away the fallen construction. Slowly, he noticed that there were distinctly less knights then there should have been. He grabbed a nearby guard and asked if the man had seen any of them.

The man swallowed. "Sir Leon is the only one I can say I saw, sire. He'd just returned from a patrol in the forest, and hadn't stopped to put down his shield or anything. He briefly told me that there was something urgent you had to know. I saw him very recently too..." his eyes widened. "...hurrying down this very corridor."

Uther released the man, his hand trembling slightly. There were a great many people that were trapped and possibly hurt because of this...Roc. Once things eventually started returning to normal, he'd have the whole _castle _hunting the beast.

So King Uther Pendragon swore.

:::::::::M:::::::::::E:::::::::R::::)))((((::::L:::::::::I:::::N:::::::

Originally for the 'Arthur looking into the physician's quarters' scene, I had this **"At first, all Arthur could see was Merlin's retreating back heading down the stairs, but once the servant had distanced himself from Arthur's line of vision, Arthur could see the whole room clearly...well, the parts not hidden behind the walls of Merlin's room. **

**His eyes widened involuntarily as he took in the scene. Everything was a mess, and he wondered vaguely as to how Merlin was to manage everything without cutting himself on broken shards every few minutes. Toward the far left of his vision, he could spot the unmoving form of Gaius, the man's silver-white hair just visible before the rest of his body being cut of by the wall. Towards the far right, there must have been another patient (most likely under the book balcony, if Arthur recalled correctly the positioning of the room), for Merlin was speaking in that direction, looking irritated. Merlin himself was in the center of Arthur's line of vision, kneeling by a table in the middle of the room. Upon the table was a young girl, and underneath the table lay a male peasant. Leaning upon a table leg—in fact, directly facing Arthur, would have to be ****Allister, for the man was now the center of Merlin's attention; when the man moved his cloak, Arthur saw the glint of a dagger upon his belt."** Then I looked back upon it and realized that I was very unsure as to the actual layout of the quarters, and whether Arthur would _really _be able to view everything inside the room. So I did a little research by calling up the first episode of the first season on Youtube, and studied the quarters intensely. It seemed to me that it went something like this: The room's huge, with a lot of tables and several shelves, lots of the tables holding vials and books, one to two tables for eating (or perhaps being cleared off). But in later scenes from the episode, the room/tables look much neater and less crowded than the opening shot...The entrance to the room is parallel (to an extent) with Merlin's chamber, which is accessed via an archway that hangs over a small set of stairs, the actual door being at the top of the stairs. When Merlin for the first time enters the room, he looks upwards and to (his) left, which implies that the book balcony is towards the back of the room, or at least on the left wall. This makes sense because in a later scene, when Merlin is sneaking out at night, we have a shot in which the angle is capturing him from his left side, walking toward the entrance door. Now, behind him is the book balcony, and he's exiting from his chambers. That would also confirm my original placement of Gaius's bed. So right now, the thing I'm most concerned about is the tables. In the first chapter of Overcrowded, I had Merlin fetch an old and rickety table from a corner of the room and repair it. This makes sense because it seems logical for all the tables being cluttered at the same time, but now I'm wondering about the placement of the tables. I haven't described it much in the story, which is a bit hindering, so now I've been attempting to picture it. I suppose that Merlin probably has been pushing tables to the side a bit, so as to have a clear path for a fast method of reaching both Gaius and Arthur, so with the old table he resorted to placing it in the middle of the clearing, which is where I think I've had it the whole time. Unfortunately I don't have an exact table count, and don't know exactly where each one is, but hopefully that won't have any bearing on the story.

*Lets out a huge breath*RIGHT sorry there. Got carried away. Guys, I am so, so sorry for the gap in updating. I'm trying to get back in the swing of things after the end of the school year, but with volunteering to clear tornado-debris, visiting relatives, and future summer school coming up (I plan on taking a class I have no desire to take during the school year), it hasn't been easy. Will you ever forgive me? This was nine to eleven pages long guys...guys? Hello? Anyone? Don't abandon meeeee...!

No seriously, I totally understand if you forgot this existed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Overcrowded**

**Full Summary: **When Gaius falls ill, Merlin becomes acting physician. With a variety of patients, royal and peasant alike, Merlin is not only overworked, but falling ill as well. Things don't help when he and his patients are cut off from the rest of the castle...and when a non-magical but highly skilled assassin arrives hell-bent on killing Uther.

**Disclaimer: I am certain I almost do not perhaps own this.**

**Note: Oh. Hey. Seven...months since the last update. Damn. I have excuses! Granted, they probably mean nothing to you (damn). The big one is school and extracurriculars. A while back, I performed in Shakespeare's _All's Well that End's Well_ as Lavatch the Clown, and the schedule was monstrous—during hell week I arrived home past 10:00. Well, now that the play is over, I find myself with a lot more time to feel guilty about various fanfiction stories I haven't updated. (Also, I recently sang in an all-state chorus. And yesterday turned in a research paper for English. And...) **

**-At the time I write this, _Overcrowded_ is my most popular story on this site, with 99 alerts, 26 favorites, is in two communities and has 39 reviews (okay, so _Stone Circle_ beats it out with 44, but still). Jeez. _96 individuals like my story enough to subscribe to it_. My guilt complex is huge. I WILL update, dammit. If it's the last thing I do-**

**Seriously though, I promised I wouldn't leave it seven months and I feel really terrible about it...**

**WHEN: **Sometime after the Poisoned Chalice

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::merlin::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Haspin Turek of Mercia tensed, pressing his back against the pillar while reaching for a dagger. Guards ran past his hiding space, most likely heading for excavation tools—they were leaving from the direction of the destroyed hallway, after all. Haspin relaxed once they were out of earshot, and resumed searching for Uther.

Uther Pendragon. Haspin hated him passionately, having known peasants subject to his tyranny. The king claimed he cared about the people of the villages, yet let them starve when they asked for aid, let them die when under attack—_this_ was a good king? Haspin gritted his teeth. The man would have to die. If his son put up a resistance, he might have to go too. Haspin wasn't terribly concerned about the fate of Prince Arthur. He had a reputation for being a bully, and for the most part seemed to be shaped just like his father. If that was the case...

Voices ahead. Haspin slowed, and caught the arm of a nearby servant. She seemed to be fetching water for the diggers, clutching at her serving pitcher—wide-eyed and pale. "Excuse me," Haspin murmured. "But where can I find his majesty?"

"B-back there." The maid stammered. "Overseeing the rescue. I wouldn't bother him, if I were you. He's nearly mad with worry..."

Haspin suppressed a laugh. Uther was already mad, didn't she know? He let the girl continue on her way, already peering about the corner. Uther was easily spotted, his clean, brightly-colored clothes contrasted greatly with the grime-coated men. And even if Uther had been wearing the shabbiest, dirtiest clothes in the world he still would stand apart from the others—literally. He watched the workers from a small distance away, his hands on his hips. Haspin sneered at the man. If he really did care so much, then why wasn't he helping to dig?

Reaching into his bag, Haspin quickly found what he was looking for. It was a small weapon, yet the darts it held were deadly. He had a whole range of darts, coated in a whole range of poisons and other deadly concoctions. Some were fatal diseases, others slow-enacting torture. Haspin opted for a fast-acting poison. He couldn't really understand the fascination some had with drawn out torture. It was risky—it just gave the target's associates more time to rescue him.

He put the weapon to his lips, breathing in deeply. Three...two...one...

Haspin gasped involuntarily as the same serving girl from before bumped into him, balancing a tray of pitchers on either hand.

"Sorry!"

Uther suddenly strode out of view. Haspin calmly tucked his dart-blower back into his bag. No matter. Besides, he might haven't had such an easy time of escaping had Uther actually been hit.

Haspin withdrew further into the shadows, and began to plot.

:::Merlin:::::POV:::::::::

Merlin tensed, his hand clenched tightly on the handle of the door. _Gods,_ Arthur was insufferable. Shuffling forward, he breathed in deeply, attempting to calm himself. The action backfired, and he coughed harshly. Once, twice, until it was a coughing fit. Each cough rattled him thoroughly, his muscles shaking to the point that he accidentally jerked the door back an inch.

_That_ stopped the fit quick. Merlin clutched the handle tightly, and peered around the door.

Merlin immediately shut the door again, throwing himself against it for good caution.

"Arthur," he shouted, "I can safely say that without a doubt, we are trapped inside here."

He heard a thump from his bedroom, presumably Arthur had hit the wall with his good hand.

"What did you see?" Gaius inquired, peering at Merlin from his bed.

"Rocks." Merlin hiccoughed, running a hand through his hair. "Lots of...rocks."

"Really?"

Merlin nodded, sitting on the stool next to Gaius's bed. "Yeah. The whole doorway's blocked."

He leaned forward, lowering his voice. "...Gaius, our supply of food was low to begin with. If we ration it _really_ strictly, I suppose we have a week's worth, tops." Merlin sighed. "Strictly as in: The strongest skip some meals entirely while the weaker eat a few mouthfuls worth every other day."

Gaius frowned. "I daresay you'll have to be careful, Merlin. Especially with your magic, there are too many witnesses for you to risk anything."

"And," he added, his gaze softening, "especially with yourself. You're looking awfully tired, my boy."

Merlin scrubbed at his face, and let his head rest in his hands for a moment. "I can't just endanger my patients' lives for the sake of a few nightmares, Gaius. Besides, I'll have a drunkard to help me—once he wakes up, that is."

Merlin abruptly stood, hearing Beth stir on the table. Once satisfied that she was sleeping and not in any immediate need of attention, he entered his chambers, managing a half-hearted smile as Arthur began to interrogate him.

"You're absolutely _sure_ that we're sealed off?"

Merlin shot Arthur an irritated look.

"Alright, stupid question." Arthur conceded. "But don't worry, I'm sure we'll be dug out in no time at all."

Merlin stared at him. "Arthur, how long would you say is 'no time at all'?"

Arthur hesitated. "A few days, maybe?"

Merlin eyed him warily. "It's a rather long corridor."

"So?" Arthur snapped. "My father's probably doing whatever it takes to get me out. I wouldn't be surprised if he had every guard in the place clearing away the wreckage."

Merlin said nothing.

"What? You think otherwise? Tell me, _Merlin_, what does a servant know about the workings of Camelot?" Arthur sneered, unconsciously attempting to alleviate his own fear.

"Arthur, the king of Mercia was residing in our cells just a little whiles ago. We held him at _swordpoint_! No matter what the circumstances were, Mercia isn't likely to forgive us anytime soon. Uther would be mad if he didn't have men on sentry alert. And what about that 'earthquake'? Uther's smart, he should have already realized that no ordinary earthquake could fell the castle so easily. Knowing the king, he's already blamed magic as the source, and will need men to investigate and defend Camelot. It's going to take longer than 'just a few days', Arthur. And guess what!" He shouted the last bit, his frustration getting the better of him, "We've barely got enough food to last a week! And _that's_ if people like you and I don't eat half the time!"

Merlin faltered, his strength leaving him. He leaned against his wardrobe, swallowing.

The room was quiet for several moments. Finally, Arthur spoke, not quite meeting Merlin's eyes. "You're right, Merlin. I..." A pause. "...I'm sorry. I didn't want to believe it."

The prince smiled mirthlessly. "Imagine, being stuck in my servants chambers for Gods knows how long. I'm sure I'll go mad."

"Yeah." Merlin murmured, matching Arthur's expression. "Me too."

He nodded jerkily towards Arthur, and left the room as fast as possible, needing to be alone. The feeling of helplessness was more prevalent than before. He'd just laid bare the cruel reality to Arthur, after all. In doing so, all traces of optimism had vanished from Merlin's mind. He coughed, once, twice, and suppressed the third. The dust from the incident still hadn't settled, then. With a sigh, Merlin set about redressing Lander's injuries, consoling himself with the fact that things couldn't possibly get any worse.

:::::mer::::::::lin::::::::

Uther realized that he had a bit of a dilemma on his hands.

Part of him wanted very badly to have everyone working to clear the rubble away. Yet his very noble blood practically screamed at him that the emotional side of him was not to be given higher priority than the kingdom. And as always, the regent won the conflict. Uther had managed to retrieve a few knights by this point, and proceeded to give them clear orders, which they were to repeat and carry through. The orders would transfer many men to sentry and patrol duties, so as to protect Camelot from both the Roc and Mercia, should either attack again.

The amount of guards left to clear the wreckage was decidedly smaller than before, and Uther sent the knights out again to recruit peasants and servants for the job.

Besides, his son would be fine. ...If Gaius's ceiling hadn't caved in, of course.

::::Merlin::::

Gwen shivered, brushing a couple of spiders off her apron as she rubbed her arms. It was cold in the alcove, the stone's icy temperature seeping into her skin. Her stomach grumbled, and for a moment she was tempted to just eat the stale bread and be done with it. _No_. Gwen thought. She just had to hold on for a few days, and all would be fine. It _had_ to be_._

_::::::::::::_M::::er:::::li:::::n_::::::::::_

I realize not much happened in this chapter. I apologize. I really wanted to just have an update for it, if nothing else.


	6. Chapter 6

**Overcrowded**

**Full Summary: **When Gaius falls ill, Merlin becomes acting physician. With a variety of patients, royal and peasant alike, Merlin is not only overworked, but falling ill as well. Things don't help when he and his patients are cut off from the rest of the castle...and when a non-magical but highly skilled assassin arrives hell-bent on killing Uther.

**Disclaimer: (Insert humorous quip about how I _obviously_ own the show)**

**Note: Lookee here, less than a month since the update! Progress! (I just got back from a trip to Miami, as it's now my spring break. So there's time, now, guys!) ...Well, time in that I'm now directing a scene from _The Merry Wives of Windsor_. Don't worry, though. That shouldn't be too time-consuming. **

**-Also, just stating this for the record, I am completely making this story up as I go along. (Though this chapter did kind of pop into my head as I was writing the previous one). Thanks anyway, Tegan! **

**WHEN: **Sometime after the Poisoned Chalice

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::merlin::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Evening had now befallen Camelot, with little headway concerning the hallway. Merlin had just finished doling out food rations, and had himself consumed a piece of bread on Gaius's insistence. The physician had watched him much like a hawk watches its prey—and only after Merlin had swallowed the bread did Gaius permit himself to fall asleep. Merlin, once again perched on the stool beside his guardian's beside, couldn't help but smile at Gaius's concern. It was _nice_, Merlin felt, to have someone to be concerned for you.

With that, Merlin promptly dropped off—literally. The sound of his body hitting the ground failed to wake the others, however. The only one to witness Merlin succumbing to slumber was Walter, dozing under the stairwell. Having awoken a few hours previously, and subsequently becoming Merlin's assistant, he was technically supposed to be overseeing the patients while Merlin was 'out'. Walter personally thought the patients would do fine without him. He also believed that there wasn't _really_ a need to get up and see if Merlin was alright, because the boy didn't _really_ seem to be in much discomfort, there on the floor. Walter resumed his nap.

A few minutes later, Merlin hoisted himself up into a sitting position. He was trembling slightly, a glazed look in his eye.

Merlin clamped a hand over his mouth, and attempted to stand up. An uncomfortable feeling had beset his stomach, a sort of gentle churning that caused his stomach to tighten. Merlin realized his throat felt very dry. The room seemed to spin, and Merlin suddenly doubled over, heaving nothing but air—but the harshness of it was immense, to the point where Merlin nearly toppled over.

He clutched at a wall, frantically looking around for some sort of container to throw up in. The only ones available at short notice were being used, and digging around in the clutter of the room for more would surely wake up the patients.

Merlin's gaze alighted on his bedroom door.

He stumbled towards it, his face buried in the elbow of his right arm. Shoving the door open, Merlin lurched towards the window, gripped the windowsill and proceeded to empty his stomach of the bread, the contents falling towards the ground below.

Bile dripped out of Merlin's mouth, soaking his shirt. The smell and slack muscles brought tears to Merlin's eyes. He shuddered, hunched over the sill.

"Merlin?" A slurred voice asked from behind him. "What 're you doing?"

It was Arthur. Merlin blanched, attempting to come up with an excuse. He considered the window again—a thought suddenly struck him! How could he have been so _blind_?

"...Merlin?"

"Arthur," Merlin croaked, clutching the windowsill for support in his excitement. "Arthur, wait, I've..." He struggled to word his idea, his mind still hazy with sleep.

Arthur stared at him blankly.

"Right, this window? This is a _genius_ window. Brilliant. D'you know why?"

Arthur edged away from him, a wary expression on his face.

"I mean, look at it! No bars! Arthur, we've been so _stupid_! Surely some sort of system could be set up, so that food could be readily supplied to the patients-"

Merlin cut off, suddenly aware of the almost irrepressible urge to cough. He attempted to pass off the ensuing two as a clearing of the throat.

"Merlin..." Arthur seemed at a loss for words. "...That's...you..." Arthur threw up his good arm in frustration. "Why didn't you say something before?"

"Because I didn't think of it before, that's why." Merlin turned away and resumed looking at the window. "Funny, I thought you'd say something like, 'Since when have you been smart?'" He smiled bitterly. "I suppose my expectations were a little too high."

Merlin suddenly peered down at the ground. Was it—there! Yes! A person!

He tried to shout, but his first attempts were meager at best—his throat seemed full of grit. Merlin rushed over to Arthur's side, and drank from the water pitcher. Ignoring Arthur's grunt of surprise, Merlin returned to the window and tried again.

The figure looked up. Luckily, the man was clothed in the apparel of a guard.

"Go fetch the king!" Merlin called down to the man. "His son the prince commands you!"

At that, the man dashed off. Merlin, though having not been in Camelot for long, was known enough among Camelot's staff, if only just as the prince's manservant. If it had been anyone else who'd asked the guard, the request might not have been so easily believed.

Merlin slumped against the wall, a breath of relief escaping him. It had been the smart thing to do, he reassured himself, to ask for the king and not directly for food. There was no way of trusting those down there for reliance. Uther would do anything for his son, and aid would arrive quicker to Merlin through the king's status. All he needed to do know was wait.

::::M:::

A short trumpet blast resounded from outside the window. Merlin scrambled to look. It was the announcement of Uther, who immediately upon seeing Merlin bellowed,

"Is my son alright?"

"Yes." Merlin hollered back. "We need food."

Uther said something to the trumpeter beside him, who ran off, presumably to the kitchen. His attention came back to Merlin. "I want to see my son!" The king demanded.

"He's not to be moved, sire." Merlin shot a pointed look at Arthur, who had already attempted to rise.

Uther was silent for a moment. "Are you in need of anything else? Medical supplies? Fresh water?" He finally inquired.

"Fresh water would be grea—er, deeply appreciated, sire." Merlin blushed. "We've plenty of medical supplies."

Uther stopped a nearby guard, who departed the premises after a brief conversation with the king. As he did so another figure approached with a ladder; the trumpeter must have sought out others to assist in terms of aid. Following the ladder-bearer was two men carrying rope, a third with a long metal hook.

"In case the ladder isn't tall enough," the hook-carrier explained, a hand cupped around his mouth.

The first man propped the ladder against the wall, and as had been assumed, it didn't meet the window's height. The two men with ropes immediately ascended the ladder, which missed the window by a length approximate to Merlin's height. The first man tossed up the first bundle of rope to Merlin, and then the second. Once those were safely inside the metal hook was passed up and into Merlin's hands.

"The hook's for the baskets and buckets of food 'n water." The man at the top of the ladder said. "The rope's for getting people _out_ of here."

Suddenly there were shouts from below. "Ah. That would be the food." The man commented, and descended the ladder. "Be back in a bit, just have to assess the weight of the baskets and the like."

"We can get out?" Merlin flinched in surprise and turned around. Walter stood behind him, tense and almost desperate.

"Er...yeah. Yeah, I suppose so..." Merlin murmured. Shock rippled through his body. _Of course_ they could get out. One simply had to be lowered onto the ladder, and then...

...Well, everyone could get out except for Arthur, who's unable to walk. And Lander, who can't grip a rope or ladder. And Alister, whose ribs still need tending to. And Beth and Gaius, who have the fever.

In fact, Merlin realized miserably, the only ones who could _really_ escape were himself and Walter. But Merlin couldn't leave his patients behind. And Walter...

"Walter," Merlin sighed, "is there any possibility that you would stay to help me take care of the patients?"

Walter stared at him for a moment. "You must be mad," he said at last. "Look, thanks for sobering me up and all, but I'm off!"

With that, Walter grabbed the rope and shoved past Merlin, climbing out of the window. Merlin lunged for the rope at the last second—Walter hadn't realized that the rope wasn't actually _tied_ to anything.

Merlin peered out the window. Walter's feet had touched the top rung, and it was only when Walter's hands had done the same that Merlin finally retracted the rope. Merlin scrubbed at his face with his hand. No assistance. Great. He stole a glance at Arthur, who was gazing at the window with something akin to longing. _Poor Arthur. Freedom's so close yet so far._

But really, would the situation have been any different under normal circumstances? The patients wouldn't have been able to leave the room anyway. And under normal circumstances, Walter would have left under Merlin's orders. He was fit to do so. Merlin had done his duty and cured him, after all.

A yell from the window drew Merlin's attention. It was the man from before, who was clutching a basket of bread. Merlin took the metal hook and lowered it down. The basket was placed on the hook and Merlin raised the basket up and into his chambers. He couldn't help but smile—_genuinely_ smile—at the sight. Arthur was doing the same from the bed.

Soon baskets of food of all sorts were sitting on the floor. Buckets of water had followed. So had King Uther. Uther stood with his feet on the top rung of the ladder, his hand clutching the windowsill, his head poking out above it. Merlin left the room for father and son to talk. He needed to inform the others of what had happened anyway.

When he returned, Uther had disappeared with the other food-bearers below. Merlin plopped himself down on the floor and gleefully started to examine the food.

Removing a cloth covering the basket closest to him, he was dismayed to find an unfamiliar meat as its contents.

"How could they be so _stupid_? Surely they realized that we've no larder to keep the meat fresh in?" He moaned, prodding at it. "What is it, anyway?"

"Capon." Arthur supplied. Merlin shook his head, indicating that he had no clue as to what that was.

"It's a type of fowl. Chicken, to be precise. I recognize the smell. And the feather." He gestured to a feather sticking out from the meat. "Father probably put that there to help us identify it."

"Well, we can't just not eat it, I've no salt to preserve it with." Merlin grumbled. "Right, looks like everybody's getting meat for dinner. On the bright side," he added, "I'm pretty sure most of us have never actually _eaten_ capon. Nobility we aren't." He mumbled, setting the capon aside.

Merlin checked the rest of the baskets. Two more of them contained meat, both of which Merlin could not recognize. Arthur proclaimed them as geese and larks.

Merlin doled out the meat as best he could. Beth and Gaius could unfortunately stomach little in the way of meat, but Lander and Arthur would be voracious eaters. Alister _could_ eat, but he had to be careful, due to his ribs. Once the patients in the main chamber had obtained their new dinners (Beth and Gaius had been given pottage, which had been delivered straight from the kitchens), Merlin retired to his chambers, where he divided up the rest of the meat with Arthur. Everybody who was eating the fowl had been given large portions. Merlin had never had so much meat on a dinner plate before himself. He didn't know how much he could actually eat, to be honest. He was still queasy from throwing up.

Arthur had tucked in with great gusto, first tearing at the larks. "I'd save the capon for last," he advised. "Absolutely the best of the lot."

Merlin picked at his own food, first nibbling at the goose. His bites were tiny, and he waited a few moments before swallowing the next piece. He didn't want to instigate another vomiting session, _especially _in front of Arthur.

"What's got you so quiet?" Arthur asked, already finishing up the lark. "Normally you'd be talking my ear off."

"Nothing." Merlin stuffed a piece of meat into his mouth and chewed furiously, so as to be excused from responding further.

"I mean, this is great! We can survive for as long as is needed in here, now with a steady supply of food." Arthur continued, reaching for the pitcher of water beside him. "There's nothing to worry about now."

"Except for the roc," Merlin countered, swallowing the last of the geese. He set his plate down, a tight feeling in his stomach.

Arthur scowled. "My father mentioned that briefly, when you stepped outside the room. He seems to think it might exist..."

"And what happens if it attacks again?" Merlin hugged his arms around his stomach, hoping it would look like he was worried about the situation and not losing his supper in front of Arthur.

"Well, maybe it won't." Arthur belched, and picked up another piece of meat. "Maybe, _you_ need to _stop_ _worrying_ so much."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "I'm going to go see if anyone wants the rest of my meal," he said, standing up.

"What?" Arthur looked up, startled. "But you've hardly ate!"

"I'm...not very hungry." Merlin tottered over to the door and left to dump his supper on whoever would take it. Lander was perfectly happy with a third of Merlin's share, clearly enjoying the food of the aristocracy. Alister accepted another third, clearly not about to let a knife would to the chest stop him from filling his stomach. Merlin returned to Arthur, and offered him the third. Arthur accepted it, though warily.

"I don't know, Merlin. It doesn't seem...healthy, calling two mouthfuls of geese a meal."

"It's not that unusual." Merlin replied, leaning against the wall and sliding down to a sitting position.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, us ordinary people have busy schedules..."

Arthur scoffed, his eyebrows furrowed in disbelief. "So do I!"

"Yeah, but your meals are planned. I mean, you _know_ you're going to have supper, it's not something that's optional for you. You know exactly what's going to happen during the day, because you can't let that sort of thing bother you. But servants..." Merlin scratched at his hair, considering his words carefully. "Servants don't get that. We usually have certain tasks we know have to be completed, but there's no telling when we'll be called to assist with some problem, be it understaffed or—_heh_-a catastrophe. Our personal needs are supposed to come after the royalty, the nobles, castle...well, they're just last. Food's an afterthought. If food spills on the ground and makes it unsuitable for the king, snatch it up and stick it in your pocket. That sort of thing."

Arthur blinked, his face blank and eyes wide. Merlin, feeling exposed, quickly changed the subject.

"What else did your father tell you?"

Arthur slowly chewed, regarding him with a judgmental gaze. "That they were doing their best to dig us out as soon as fast as possible, but there's a shortage of men due to the threat of the roc and Mercia."

"Did he mention any casualties?" Merlin asked, thinking of Gwen and Morgana.

"Morgana's fine," Arthur said, "but apparently her handmaiden, Gwen, was in the vicinity of the destroyed hallway."

Merlin swallowed.

"Others buried under the rubble have yet to be determined, although there's a strong chance that..." Arthur struggled for a moment. "...Sir...Sir Leon was one of them."

Merlin winced sympathetically. He knew the knight vaguely as a kind and intelligent soul, loyal to the Pendragons to the end. He was the captain of the guards—close to Arthur.

Like Gwen was to him.

Merlin wrung his hands together absentmindedly. "Are you done with your dishes?"

Arthur nodded, and Merlin retrieved them silently. He went on to collect the rest of the dirty dishes from the rest of the patients, and set them aside. He didn't have the strength to clean them. Indeed, his stomach prevented it.

After checking on the medical statuses of the patients in the main room, he reentered his chambers. Arthur had slipped into sleep, which Merlin was profoundly grateful for, as he proceeded to go to the window and throw up.

Shaking, Merlin withdrew from the window and stripped off his tunic, having gotten sick on the front of it. Opening his wardrobe he quickly selected another one and stuffed the vomit-soaked one inside. Once fully clothed, he crouched on the ground to pick up his own plate, which he'd forgotten in his haste to exit the room.

Merlin didn't get up again. The servant had fallen asleep, his body awkwardly slumped on the floor, in a position that would undoubtedly leave him with cramps when he woke up.

Meanwhile, the roc flew over the forests nearby...

:::::::::::::::::::::M:::::::::::::::

**So! Less than a month this time! Progress!**

**Pottage, by the way, was a thick peasant soup-stew made commonly from oats, but often vegetables were added in. Leek pottage was pretty popular. I imagine the cooks thought to include something that would be somewhat familiar to the peasant patients patiently persisting in peril. ...Right? Heh. **

**Also, the noble class would eat meat _far_ more often than peasants, including capon, geese, and larks. Honestly, I have no idea why Merlin and co. were given meat, because it should have been obvious to the kitchen and to Uther that meat would spoil quickly. (Okay, okay, I really wanted to indicate class differences, alright? So sue me).**

**Sorry nothing much happened in this chapter. It's eight pages long, though, (not including this author's note, which makes it nine). That's good, yeah? Quantity over quality... *sobs* **


	7. Chapter 7

**So, we last left off with a steady food supply for Merlin and co. Beth (the child) and Gaius are still sick, Lander the builder, Allister the plot device and Arthur the oblivious are all still injured, and Merlin is still the whump bag. The roc is flying over the forest, Gwen is still trapped, Haspin is still at large, the hallways are nowhere near to being cleared, and the guards spread thin. And I am pretty much making these chapters up with only a very loose sketch of the plot in my mind.**

**Sorry it's been over ...holy crap, six months since the last update. Again. After the last update, I took two AP exams, final exams, directed a scene from the _Merry Wives of Windsor_, (which was never performed, by the way), I had no access to a computer for a whole month (I was touring Europe with a choir), and the blackout on the east coast happened, and then I had another week of rehearsal with another choir. And now I'm involved with three choirs, APs, etc. To all those of you who have managed to stay with me, I can't thank you enough, and understand any hostile feelings you may have towards me. Really, you can't imagine the guilt.**

**EDIT TO LAST CHAPTER:**** Returning readers, please check Chapter 6. I have changed the scene with Arthur and Merlin, as the idea of Merlin eating gruel 'every other day' was too unrealistic.**

**::::::::CHAPTER SEVEN:::::::::**

Gwen broke off a piece of the bread roll with some difficulty; it was so stale that it was almost hard as a rock. Gently assessing the inside of the roll with her fingers, she was dismayed to find that the interior was not much better. She put a small quantity of the roll in her mouth and began to suck on it, waiting for her saliva to soften the roll enough for her to be able to use her teeth. Her stomach rumbled fiercely, and she swallowed.

Gwen sighed, leaning against the wall of the alcove. If she concentrated, she could hear very faint shouting—the rescuers, she had no doubt. _Not that they'll do any good_, she thought morosely, staring at her clasped hands, _I'll die of starvation before they get here_.

She started to hum tunelessly, picking at a loose strand of her dress. The dark solitude pressed in on her, and Gwen blinked, holding back tears. She'd never felt so alone before.

It was terrifying.

:::::::::::::

"Morgana."

Morgana stood and stretched, her back cramped from the time she'd spent removing the collapsed stone. "What is it?"

Uther looked at her, concern and irritation in his gaze. "Come dine with me. You look exhausted."

"While so many people need my help? I refuse."

"There are already diggers, Morgana. One woman will not make a difference in the matter." Uther pressed. "You need to eat...think of it as a break. You are not the only one who will do so."

_I _am_ hungry_, Morgana acknowledged. Her stomach had been loudly protesting for quite a while. "I...I suppose you're right. But we shall eat quickly, I _must _ return as soon as possible."

Uther smiled at her, and Morgana returned it without thinking, the mannerisms of a lady now instinct after years of etiquette lessons. He reached out a hand, and Morgana took it, linking his arm with hers.

"I suppose nothing will keep you from aiding the workers," Uther said, as they made their way down the corridors.

Morgana simply looked at him, daring the king to oppose her. He frowned, and then to Morgana's surprise laughed, looking at her with something akin to affection.

"You've always been so headstrong...just like your father..." he chortled, glancing away as they continued down the hall, people rushing in the opposite direction, shouting for more buckets and more water...

:::::::::::::

The girl moaned and writhed underneath Merlin's hand, her forehead slick with sweat and coal-hot to his touch. With his right hand, he smoothed her hair back, in his left hand he held a bowl containing pulverized coriander and water.

"Please," Merlin breathed, desperately trying to keep the mixture from spilling as the girl twisted on the table. "You need this. It'll help you. _Please_."

The girl whimpered, peering at him with watering eyes. "My head hurts. It's so cold—why is it so cold?"

"This will help bring the fever down," Merlin insisted. "And then I'll get some lavender for your head. But you need this first, alright?"

Tears leaked from the girl's eyes, and she went limp—unsurprising, as she barely had the strength to struggle.

"It's alright," Merlin tilted the bowl, letting the contents slip into her mouth. "It'll be okay. Swallow. Good. I'll just get that lavender now. Don't worry about a thing."

The girl—_Beth—_Merlin corrected momentarily, and then flinched—had malaria. He and Gaius had discussed her symptoms for as long as Gaius had been able—which wasn't very long, as Gaius had relapsed. A setback to be sure—Merlin had been counting on Gaius's support throughout this whole ordeal.

Sighing, Merlin fetched the lavender and proceeded to treat Beth, mentally preparing himself for the rest of the morning tasks. After Beth would come Gaius, then Lander, then Alister, and finally Arthur. Then, if he was feeling up to it, breakfast. Accompanying each patient was a checklist of ingredients..._coriander and henbane for Gaius, vinegar and mint for Lander; vinegar, myrrh and yarrow for Alister..._Or was it achillea? Merlin groaned, shaking his head. He'd just have to go through it step by step when he got there.

Gaius's treatment was simple, much as it had been before the relapse. As Merlin rubbed the henbane ointment onto Gaius's hands, the physician (who he had thought was asleep) muttered something about _have you eaten yet _and _don't forget the leeches._ Merlin frowned at that last comment. Though Merlin was well aware of the usage of leeches as a cure for diseases, and that Gaius used them often in his work, he personally had used them only once, maybe twice—and that was twice too many. They revolted him, and frankly he was a little leery of a remedy that removed an essential part of living from one's body. Hopefully it wouldn't come to that.

After he'd finished with Gaius, Merlin returned to the table and knelt on the floor, next to where Lander lay. The builder would eventually be moved from there, of course, but for now it was more convenient to leave the builder there, no matter the fact that Lander couldn't exactly sit comfortably under it. Besides, Lander had admitted that sitting up made him dizzy, so there wasn't any pressing need to move him _now. _

"How are you feeling?" Merlin asked Lander casually, gently examining the bandaging on the man's head and arm.

The man grinned at him, with more ease than one would normally expect from someone in his position.

"Contented and warm-like...or at least I will be, once you hand over the mead."

Merlin smirked as Lander purposefully stared at the mug Merlin currently held in his left hand. "Don't look so greedy. It's watered down—you aren't in excruciating pain, and there's no point in having you drunk first thing in the morning."

"Why? I'm not going anywhere."

Merlin's grin faded slightly, and he and Lander looked at each other ruefully for a moment.

"Well, it's still no excuse." Merlin broke the silence, huffing slightly as he offered Lander a poultice he'd prepared beforehand. "Here, drink this first. And don't drink the alcohol just yet, I have to distribute breakfast," he suddenly remembered, wondering how that had slipped his mind.

He missed what Lander replied, getting up in a daze. _It was just one slip-up_, he reassured himself nervously. _You remembered it after all, didn't you_? But there was always the possibility that he might have not. And while certainly it wouldn't have been a huge problem—someone would take note and then he'd supply breakfast and that would be that—it could have had much bigger consequences. What if it had been someone's medicine?

Maybe it was just fatigue, Merlin reasoned, retrieving Alister's medicine and crouching next to the noble, going through the motions. He'd woken up fairly energetic, and had been on full alert during Beth's episode, but as the morning dragged on Merlin had begun to feel...heavy. _Not the best of descriptions_, Merlin thought, blatantly ignoring the inquiring looks Alister was giving him as he worked. It was like he was in a haze. He was processing everything slower. The word cotton suddenly sprang to mind, and Merlin rubbed his hands without thinking, watching herb scraps fall from them onto the ground.

"Gaius is right. I free-associate too much." The words hitched as he uttered them, and he rose to his feet, getting his bearings as the room swayed in the wind—_swayed in the wind?_ What was _wrong_ with him?

Merlin, numb, reached for Arthur's treatment on the table, near Beth's feet, and to his horror he somehow misjudged the distance and his fingers brushed against a vial instead of curling around it, the vial teetered on the edge and began to fall and he could only wait for it to smash instead of using magic and-

-Alister neatly caught it, examining him with a critical eye. "I say again, are you alright?"

Merlin blinked, and the world was comprehensible again.

"Yes. I'm perfectly alright. I'm...I'm very okay." Merlin snatched the vial from Alister's grip, flushing. "Thank you. Er, my lord." He turned away as politely as he could, wanting to distance himself from the nobleman as quickly as possible.

–

"I can't wait to stand up again. You know, I'm almost certain I can feel my muscles atrophying as we speak." Arthur lifted the mug and swallowed Merlin's poultice in one go, and as he set it down he glanced at Merlin, as if waiting for him to reply.

Merlin instead continued to silently bind Arthur's arm. _Broth for Gaius and Beth, bread-_

"You're awfully quiet today, Merlin. Still not used to the idea of waking up at dawn?" Arthur teased, reclining against the pillow, raising his eyebrows.

_-cheese, fruits for the others maybe-_

"Merlin?"

_-fruits for the others, maybe-_

"Merlin."

_-maybe apples, or what about-"_

"Merlin!" Arthur shouted, whacking him with a pillow, disbelief lacing his voice.

_-salt fis- "_Sorry, what?" Merlin spluttered, looking at Arthur blankly.

Arthur's gaze softened, and he looked almost apologetic. "Is everything alright, Merlin? You seem a little out of it."

"Everything's fine." Merlin tried to smile as he began to sort through the food baskets, picking out the particular foods. "Everything's okay."

"Good." Arthur said, bemused. "If you're sure."

"When haven't I been?" Merlin scoffed, taking a platter in his hands.

Arthur stilled, growing somber. "Your judgment has proven to be uncannily accurate, Merlin. Eerily so."

"Well, that's just me, I suppose." Merlin evaded, growing uncomfortable.

"You knew about Valiant's enchanted shield and stood by your accusation while everyone else opposed you. You were adamant that Gwen was innocent, even attempting to absolve her with the ridiculous notion that you were the one to practice magic. And Merlin..." Arthur paused, and Merlin forgot to breathe.

"...you were so sure that my drink—goblet-had been poisoned that you agreed to drink it instead of me, risking your career and your life in favor of mine. I never really said, Merlin, but...thank you."

The platter Merlin held was no longer weighing down on him. His eyes stung, and he felt inexplicably relieved of something.

"You've proven to be someone I can rely on. Well, not for chores or any of the duties that you're actually supposed to perform," Arthur grinned, and Merlin laughed, feeling just a bit more alive than he had before, "but your loyalty is something I never would have expected from the peasant boy who refused to kneel in front of the—the arrogant _prat_ in the courtyard all that time ago. I want you to know that I appreciate what you've done for me. And...that I trust you."

Merlin felt giddy and deflated all at once. Words failed him, and he opened his mouth and closed it, a pit growing in his stomach.

Arthur shifted slightly, concern flitting across his face. "It shames me to say it, but I've only now come to realize how hard this situation must be for you. You're still recovering from the poison, you aren't a proper physician, and yet the task has fallen on you alone to care for five patients. I certainly didn't make things easier," he closed his eyes briefly, regretfully, and Merlin was filled with gratitude.

"I apologize for that. It was very unfair to you, and it won't happen again. I don't want you to view me as a hindrance, but as one you can turn to for support. So, Merlin...if anything's wrong, please tell me. I won't even call you a girl." He added, clearly hoping that Merlin would smile and everything would be as it should.

Merlin obliged, hesitating. "I'd love to, really, but I really need to deliver breakfast..."

"Of course. I shouldn't have kept you. But Merlin...come back when you're finished."

The sincerity in Arthur's eyes caused Merlin to freeze instinctively, uncertainty binding him to his spot. Finally, he found his voice again. "Right...yeah, I mean I'm delivering your, um, breakfast last...I..."

Merlin awkwardly turned and exited, a strange sense of shame weighing over him. Arthur's openness, his willingness to apologize and acknowledge the trust he held with Merlin was maddening. It only served to strip away Merlin's armor of deceit, taunting the warlock with the fact that he _lied_ to Arthur on a consistent basis, that he was betraying Arthur's trust – something he didn't deserve.

_But I want it_, Merlin mused, helping Gaius sit up as he poured broth into his guardian's mouth. Arthur's trust was a necessity if Merlin wanted to continue protecting him.

Merlin doled out the rest of the food—broth to Beth, bread and cheese to the rest. He then returned to his room, and served Arthur.

"Sit, Merlin." Arthur tore into a piece of bread, indicating a chair as his cheeks bulged.

Merlin obliged, tentatively gnawing his own breakfast. His stomach had settled down somewhat, to his relief.

"How are the others?" Arthur's change of subject wasn't surprising to Merlin—though, Merlin realized, it wasn't really a change of subject but more of an assessment of what he was dealing with. And a genuine concern about the common people, Merlin noted with a bit of pride.

"Beth and Gaius have relapsed." Merlin said, "but Lander and Alister are doing better. With any luck I can have Lander ready to leave in a week or so, maybe less."

"That's good. You'll be less overworked with him gone." Arthur drunk deeply from his goblet, his voice slightly muffled. "Merlin, do you have any books on this 'roc' that I could read? I'd like to be as informed as possible on this creature."

Merlin paused, trying to remember if books on magical creatures were banned. "...You would be alright with that? Books on magical creatures, I mean."

"Well, I'm asking for them, aren't I?" Arthur laughed once and then sobered. "Don't worry, you won't be in any trouble over them. After all, the more knowledge we have on magic's demons and practitioners the easier it'll be to defend ourselves against them, don't you agree?"

"Mm." Merlin set his plate aside, standing up. "I'll get them now."

He left and went straight for the book balcony, where Gaius kept quite a few magic-related books on the basis that nobody actually ever went up there. Merlin ascended the ladder as quickly as he was able, and began to scan the shelves for books.

There was a sudden, violent jolt. Merlin gasped and wobbled, but before he got his bearings there was another, larger rumbling, and with a cry he stumbled back, crashed through the railing and fell.

He landed on his right arm, there was a sickening crack and he rolled, the room shaking as yet another shock vibrated throughout the room. A terrible noise, the sound of rock collapsing, filled the room and was instantly overtaken by the sounds of glass smashing and books tumbling to the ground.

Merlin attempted to stand, but his legs gave out and he toppled back onto the floor, his cheeck slamming into the ground. Beth began to scream, and he rose, swaying, teetering. The room reeled, and bile dribbled out of Merlin's mouth as he heaved.

Merlin stumbled, and hunched over in a corner of the room, wheezing. Tears leaked from his tightly shut eyes. "_It's okay, it's okay, it's okay, it's okay it's okay it's okay okay okay_" Merlin chanted under his breath, biting his lip so hard he drew blood.

"It's okay!" He barked, turning and surveying the room with blurred vision. He felt suddenly calm, just like when he was about to drink the poison for Arthur. "Don't panic."

He darted for Beth, grabbing her before she rolled off the table and setting her on the floor, ignoring the sharp pain in his arm as he instructed her to hold on to the nearest secure object. In the next moment he was retrieving Lander and then Alister from the table and giving them the same instructions. Gaius refused to move and said he'd be fine, ordering Merlin to check on Arthur.

Merlin immediately did so, throwing open the door to his room with a desperate authority, only to be stopped in his tracks in horrified amazement.

Where the wall on his left should have been was a gaping hole, cut stone dangling off the edge forming a monstrous gouge in the wall of Camelot. Miraculously only a small portion of the floor was missing, leaving Arthur stricken on the bed just a few feet away from the edge. Merlin squinted, the bright noonday sun streaming into the room blinding him momentarily.

"Arthur! Are you hurt?" He called out anxiously, attempting to block the rays with his uninjured arm.

"There were talons..." Arthur gaped, glancing at Merlin with shock and fear, his dagger clasped in his left hand. "They pierced the wall like it was nothing and ripped it away—they were as big as my father-"

A inhuman screech drowned out Arthur's next words, so freakish that Merlin clamped his ears while Arthur shoved his head under his pillow out of terror.

Merlin and Arthur could only stare, stupefied, as the roc's head suddenly came into view and stared at them with beady, hungry eyes. It opened its beak and let out another grotesque shriek, and thrust its head into the room, snapping at the vulnerable Arthur upon the bed.

Feeding time.


	8. Chapter 8

**Well.**

**It's been almost a year since I updated this story. ...I didn't realize it was that long of a gap. **

**...I could give you several excuses. I could explain that I've been involved in rehearsals for performances at the Kennedy Center and Strathmore, and that I've been busy with exams, and that there have been family squabbles over money and housing and my grandmother having a heart attack, family tensions inside the household, and now college admissions (and more rehearsals)...but excuses are worthless in the end. **

**I'm very troubled now, rereading my work on this site. Much of it is poorly written and badly plotted, including this story (I was never the best at writing action scenes). The Haspin storyline, for instance, seems like an attempt on my part to heighten the tension of the overall story, even though a truly good writer would have been able to sustain the suspension of the story with one or two main plots. I am considering editing his arc out of the story entirely. Your feedback is essential for a decision to be made. **

**I should mention that I have received several story follows and favorites over the past couple of months. I have no idea how you people managed to find a fic that has not been updated in almost a year, but it's nice to know you had enough faith to subscribe.**

**The beginning of this chapter was actually written in February. **

**:::::::::Chapter 8::::::::**

There was no time to think. Merlin charged forward and dove for Arthur, roughly hauling him out of the bed and onto the floor. Ignoring Arthur's indignant cry Merlin hooked his good arm around the prince's chest and scooted them both backward, till his back met the back wall. In front of them, only a few yards away was the roc, snapping at them with a beak so wide Merlin had no doubt it would be able to swallow them whole.

The roc screeched, unable to force its head fully into the room. It thrust itself forward with such force that the room shook and loosened rocks fell from the ceiling, narrowly missing Merlin's head.

"Oh, _gods_..."

Merlin glanced at Arthur in concern. Arthur was ashen faced and trembling, his grip on his dagger so feeble that Merlin feared he was in shock.

"Arthur-" He coughed, unable to continue as dust rained down on the both of them, tremors rumbling through the room. Gasping for breath, Merlin tried again.

"Arthur, we've got to get you to a safer spot."

Arthur did not respond for several seconds, watching the roc with glazed eyes. _ Did he hear me? What if a rock hit his head while I wasn't looking? He's thick-headed, but not thick-headed enough to avoid injuring his brain—I mean, he already had a head injury when he was put on bed rest oh Gods he could never recover from a second brain injury- _

Panicking, Merlin grabbed Arthur's chin, turned it so that Arthur was facing him, and promptly slapped the future king of Camelot.

Arthur blinked.

"Merlin!" He roared, punching Merlin in the arm with his good hand. "What are you doing?"

_Oh, if looks could kill... _"Saving your life. Now come on, we need to get out of here."

He slung Arthur's right arm around his shoulder, and hoisted him up, nearly buckling under the prince's weight. _As soon as this is over, I'm putting him on a diet. _Gritting his teeth, he turned towards the door. _In normal circumstances, it would take me moments to get from here to there. _His room was very small, after all. But there was Arthur to worry about, and his own physical limitations. Furthermore, debris littered the floor.

In fact, it was a miracle the roc had not reached them already. _No, it was impossible._ He and Arthur should already be dead; the roc should have been capable of breaking through the wall with one hit.

_But it had_, Merlin corrected himself. _Arthur said it tore a hole in the wall with its talons. So why-_

"...gone, Merlin, let's go, are you _listening_?"

_Arthur_. Merlin shook himself out of his thoughts, and assessed his surroundings. The room, he realized, had ceased shaking. What was more, the roc was nowhere to be seen. Merlin eyed the cavity in the wall mistrustfully, but from where they were positioned all he could see was the sky, a bewilderingly cheery blue _empty_ sky that had no right to be so perfect on a day so awful.

_Stop it. Focus. Save Arthur. Ask him to repeat himself._ _Why is the roc gone?_

"Where...?"

From outside, through the hole Merlin heard the distinct cry of the roc. Men shouted in the distance, officer's commands and soldiers' battle cries mingling in the wind, intertwining with the wails of children and mothers' screams to create a distressing clamor that only war could produce.

"Camelot's soldiers," said Arthur, a look of intense pride on his face. "Camelot's civilians. They've begun the counterattack."

Merlin breathed deeply, once, twice, and again. "We've got to get to the main chambers," he said, under his breath. And then, more loudly. "This is our best chance."

Arthur nodded his agreement. "We need to hurry, the roc could return at any moment. Are you ready?"

Merlin hesitated. The surge of energy that he had felt before—when he was pulling Arthur away from the roc—was fading. His limbs felt heavy, and all he wanted to do was close his eyes. His right arm was throbbing, he noted, with pain that seemed to grow more acute by the minute. _That's right...I fell. Like Gaius fell._

"Merlin?"

Merlin used the concern in Arthur's voice like a drowning man would use a rope, pulling himself back to reality with all of his might.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes," he murmured, dreamily. "I'm fine." And with those words, he grounded himself.

He met Arthur's gaze, and the two stared at each other for a moment. The cacophony from outside had not ceased.

Arthur broke eye contact first. "Let's go," he said, shifting his weight so that Merlin would have an easier time of supporting him.

Merlin grunted in acknowledgment, still not used to Arthur's extra weight. He took a few steps forward, and nearly staggered into the wall on his left. "Merlin, this is no time to collapse!" Arthur yelped, nearly dropping the dagger as he struggled to regain his balance.

Merlin could only wheeze in response, intent on reaching the doorway with Arthur in one piece. _The door is really quite close_, he thought. _It's not hard at all, just a few simple steps. I cannot fail Arthur. _With this in mind, he righted himself and stepped carefully over some of the fallen debris, slowly so as not to cause Arthur any further injury. _Just one more step._ He stretched out his arm, straining for the doorknob.

The roc screamed and rammed its head into the wall. Merlin tumbled to the ground, pulling Arthur down with him. Above them the ceiling crumbled, dislodged gravel blinding him momentarily as it spilled onto his face. Squinting, he scrabbled at the door, terror gripping his heart as he realized that the wall separating them from the roc was gone entirely.

The roc let out a triumphant squawk, and was about to lunge for the two of them when it snapped its head to the left, emitting yet another deafening cry. Merlin saw a flurry of arrows fly into the air, coming from (he assumed) archers on the ground, for they flew in an almost vertical path. The roc let out a furious shriek and dove, downwards and out of sight.

Merlin was light-headed with relief. There was no time to be stupefied; he had to use the opportunity while he could. _Time to _act. Looking to his right, he saw Arthur sprawled on the floor near where the two had fallen.

_Fallen_.

Merlin got to his feet, his heart pounding. "Arthur, are you hurt?"

The prince glared at him from where he lay. "Just help me up, will you?"

Merlin smiled and offered him a hand, thankful that Arthur appeared to have escaped further injury. "Good. Come on."

Like before, he slung Arthur's arm around his neck. Arthur gave him a giddy little grin in response, reflecting Merlin's own feelings—they had made it to the door, despite the room disintegrating and the pain and the roc. Triumphant, they turned toward the door and reached for it together.

The roc cawed.

Slowly, disbelievingly, Merlin twisted his head to face the void where his wall had once been.

The roc stared back. They stayed that way for several seconds, unmoving.

And then Merlin sprang into action.

He whipped around, removing Arthur's arm from his neck so that Arthur's back was toward the door.

"Arthur," he ordered, staring straight into Arthur's eyes, "protect the others."

Arthur's brow furrowed. He opened his mouth to reply, but Merlin refused to let him have the last word; he yanked the door open with one hand and shoved Arthur through the doorway with the other.

The last thing he saw before slamming the door shut was the dawning look of comprehension on Arthur's face. "_Ne un clyse._ _Behæpse fæst," _he whispered. His door did not have a lock, technically, but his magic understood his intentions.

Merlin felt oddly calm, much like he had (after the initial fear) when he drank the poison for Arthur at the banquet not so long ago. Slowly, assuredly, he turned his back towards the door, and bent down to pick up Arthur's dagger, forgotten on the floor. Behind him, Arthur had started shouting, but his words were incomprehensible, muffled from behind the door (and from the blood rushing in Merlin's ears). Arthur's shouts were accompanied by what must have been him pounding the door. The sound of the doorknob jiggling was reassuring—the spell had worked. For now, it would keep Arthur and others safe.

The roc was oddly silent as Merlin flexed his right arm experimentally, wincing in pain as he did so. _The wall is gone. The entire wall is gone. What is it waiting for? Nothing is in its way now. _

He advanced towards the roc cautiously, clutching Arthur's dagger in his left hand (his right arm was in agony; besides, both hands were equally useless when it came to using a weapon). Arthur continued shouting at him through the door, though it was impossible to tell if he was hurling insults at Merlin or begging him to open the door.

As he approached the void, the roc retreated from it, flapping its wings so that it was a small distance away from Merlin's room. Merlin did not stop, did not think, did not breathe, only moved forward, until he was standing on the edge of his room, a pebble away the precipice. One false move, and he could easily fall to his death.

However, the possibility of falling wasn't Merlin's concern at the moment. The sight before him was far more problematic than his safety. The city was for the most part untouched, with only a few roofs caved-in. The immediate area surrounding the castle...was utterly ruined. The walls separating the castle from the city were severely damaged, and Merlin was sure that if he leaned out far enough he would see that the rest of the castle hadn't escaped the roc's wrath. Below him, the ground was littered with bodies. Those who were still alive were small in number, and were running about collecting fallen arrows off the ground, preparing for the roc's next attack.

The roc circled about in the air, its attention solely on Merlin. Now that the roc was a good distance away, Merlin had a chance to examine it as a whole. Attached to the roc's legs were cuffs, from each dangling the severed ends of a chain. Its wings, he saw, were missing some feathers, and there was a small gash in its stomach. _Injured—before or after it arrived in Camelot?_

Merlin raised his head, challenging the roc, daring it to make the first move. _I won't allow another attack._ That much he knew for certain. What he was to do with it was another matter entirely.

It only took a moment for the roc to accept his challenge, flying forward, opening its beak to swallow him whole. Merlin snarled at it, hefting the dagger in his left hand. "_Forbearnan,"_ he said, holding out his right hand, wincing all the while. Immediately a ball of fire appeared, hovering in his right hand. He waved the fire at the roc, intending to scare it.

"You killed so many people," he said. "I won't let you do any more harm."

The roc snapped at him, turning its head from side to side in a fury. Merlin, the closest he had ever been to the bird's beak, couldn't help but look at it. "Your beak is covered in scratches..." he muttered, recalling that the roc's beak had been bound while in captivity. An image of Kilgharrah, fettered to the rocks deep under Camelot flashed through Merlin's mind.

"How many of you are there left?" He asked the roc. "Are there wild flocks of you, roaming the unknown lands without fear of danger? Are there any of you left at all?"

Again, he thought of Kilgharrah. The dragon was alone, trapped in the dark confines of a cavern, twenty years away from the freedom of the open skies. The roc was alone and most likely scared in Daira, unused to the darkness of its prison. It had suffered at the hands of humans, and sought revenge.

Transfixed, he dropped the dagger and extended his left hand, intending to stroke the roc's beak. The roc recoiled. _That was a mistake. I've frightened him_. Merlin's stomach clenched. "No, I'm sorry, I didn't-"

The roc swooped up into the air, and extended its talons, clearly intending to impale or crush Merlin.

The gust of wind that followed from the flapping of its wings was perilously strong; Merlin teetered dangerously on the edge, flailing his arms about in order to keep his balance. He stumbled back, away from the edge, just in time for the roc to strike, lashing out with its talons with a bestial cry. One talon grazed Merlin's chest; a white-hot searing pain that caused Merlin to double over, gasping in pain.

He could not think, could not think of a spell to subdue the creature. His magic reacted on instinct, and he hissed at the roc, letting his magic surge and target the creature, creating an air current that blew it back and away from the wall.

Merlin put a hand to his chest, and pulled it away to see that it was coated in his own blood. He moaned and moved backwards until his back was pressed against the opposite wall.

He had to come up with a plan quickly, the roc would be back any moment now. _I am in no physical state to fight...but if I use obvious magic the people below will be sure to see...I don't want to kill it, but how do I stop it from its rampage?_

To his left, the doorknob rattled with a strength that Merlin was impressed Arthur still possessed. _All this physical activity must be putting stress on his injuries_.

He pressed his arm to his chest and went over to the door, leaning his forehead against the rough wood in fatigue.

"Arthur."

The doorknob stopped jiggling. Now that he was right next to the door, he could hear Arthur's voice without much trouble. "Merlin! Open this door this instant, are you mad?"

Merlin chuckled a bit, and then let out a choked cry as the effort sent ripples of pain across his chest.

"Merlin? What's wrong? Merlin!"

"Arthur," he gasped, bringing his free hand up to rest on the door, "whatever happens..."

An idea had sprung to mind, a solution that would save Camelot, a solution that had a very high chance of killing him.

"...just..."

_What should he say? Assure Arthur that everything was going to be alright and that he shouldn't worry? Prepare Arthur for the worst? _

"...know that I gave it my all."

There was silence on the other side of the door. Merlin shuffled over to the wall facing the outside world, and bent forward, steeling himself for what he was about to do. Arthur resuming pounding on the door, and his screams were so loud that even from where he stood Merlin could make out what the prince was shouting. It was his name. Over and over and over.

Merlin fixed his eyes on the roc, which had recovered from the air current from before and was hurtling toward him with death in its eyes.

Merlin began to run, deftly leaping over the debris in the room, ignoring the agony blazing across his chest. Both he and roc had almost reached the edge.

At the edge he leaped as the roc snapped at him, soaring over its head and onto its back. He rolled and grabbed onto the roc's feathers just in time. The roc screeched and thrashed in the air, flying up into the air and away from the castle in attempt to fling Merlin off its back.

Merlin's magic surged, refusing to allow such a thing to happen. It coursed through his arms and Merlin found himself _climbing_ up the roc's back, until he was at its neck. He hugged the roc's neck (much like he had done when riding a horse) and tried not to look down at Camelot tilting below them as the roc whirled with dizzying speed in the air and rose even higher.

Merlin roared into the wind, holding onto the roc for dear life.

"_Hiersumaþ me!" _


End file.
